Payment
by TheLittlestRaindrop
Summary: After failing to give The Undertaker his preferred payment, you decide to offer him something a little different


The rain is falling lightly in London today, covering everything it touches in a thin layer of moisture. At this moment in time, that includes you.

You are a member of 'The Aristocrats of Evil', an organisation created by the Phantomhive family as a way of providing 'The Queen's Guard Dog' with information pertaining to tasks Her Majesty has given him. You had been selected to join due to your vast wealth of underground knowledge pertaining to human trafficking. However, a wealth of knowledge doesn't mean you know everything, and there's a considerable gap in your knowledge bank that's making your current task for Lord Phantomhive very difficult indeed. Thankfully, one of your fellow members should possess the knowledge necessary for you to fill in the gap. Visiting him is the only reason you're out in this weather.

After walking a few more paces, (and stepping in several puddles) you reach your destination. A sign that reads 'Undertaker' hangs crookedly above the door. There's no light coming from inside, but you're sure the building isn't empty. You open the door and step inside.

The funeral parlour is cold, which is exacerbated by your damp clothing. Your eyes scan the room, looking for your the owner. You can't see him. 'Strange,' you think to yourself 'He's always here at this time. He must have popped out for something.'

You're about to leave and return later when you hear a creaking sound coming from one of the coffins. You watch as the lid slowing comes away, and try not to scream as a body appears. You almost faint when the body smiles at you.

'Good morning, me dear. It's nice to see you again. It's been a while since we last met up. Has the Young Earl sent you on an errand?' You let out a relieved sigh; it's not a body, it's just the Undertaker.

You've known the Undertaker ever since you joined the Aristocrats of Evil. He's a bit eccentric, spending his time munching on bone-shaped cookies and giggling to himself. He's always exceptionally nice to you, whispering little comments and jokes to you during meeting. You'd consider him a friend of sorts, despite the fact your occupation had little room for such things. In fact, you're not sure if he considered you a friend too. He's a bit of a loner by nature, and loners don't make friends easily.

The Undertaker steps out off the coffin and walks towards you, grinning like a maniac. The grin fades a bit when he looks at the state of your clothing. 'You poor thing, you're soaked through! Hang your coat up and I'll get you some tea and a towel. Then we can talk business.' He rushes off, and you hang your coat up on the corner of a coffin.

He returns with a towel in hand, giving it to you so you can dry off while he makes the tea. It doesn't do you much good; your hair and the bottom half of your dress are both soaked. Your best chance of getting the dress dry is taking it off, but that would leave you half-naked in a colleague's shop. Alternatively, you could leave it on and risk catching a cold.

Deciding that a little embarrassment was a small price to pay for continued good health, you slip out of your dress, hanging it on a different coffin to your coat. You hope what's underneath is dry, otherwise his funeral parlour will start looking like a boutique!

When he returns again, you're sat with one leg over the other on one of his coffins, drying your hair whilst looking at the ground. You're clad only in white knee-high socks, a corset, and panties that show more flesh than you'd like. They'd been a gift from Paris from a former suited, although he'd more interested in getting you out of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Undertaker drinking in your appearance. He shifts his legs slightly, and for the briefest moment you're certain you can see a tent in his robes.

He sets the tea tray he's carrying on his nearby desk, and proceeds to pour you both a cup. He hands a cup to you before sitting opposite you with his own tea. You both sip your tea in silence of a while, neither of you sure what to say. It's Undertaker that finally breaks the silence.

'So, what can I do for you today? Unless this is a social call. Is it a social call?' He tilts his head in curiosity.

You shake your own head. 'Nothing so frivolous, I'm afraid. I've had reports of women being trafficked into this country lately, but I'm not sure from where. I understand that you received a pair of Jane Does the other day. I was wondering if you could give me any hints about their country of origin?' You stare at him hopefully, handing him your now empty cup. He thinks for a moment before answering.

'I could tell you a few things, sure, but my information isn't free. I'll need me usual fee.' You take a deep breath. Thankfully, you've prepared his payment in advance.

You clear your throat before saying;

'There was a young harlot from Kew,  
Who filled her vagina with glue,  
She said with a grin  
'If they'll pay to get in…''

'Then they'll pay to get out of it, too. Sorry me dear, I heard that one yesterday.' Shit. That was your ace! You try again.

'What's brown and sticky? A stick!' He doesn't look amused. One more try.

'What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef!' He almost cracks a smile, but no laughter. You desperately try to think of more jokes, but to no avail. Why does your mind always draw blanks at inopportune moments?

You're about to admit defeat and leave, when you notice he's staring at your body again, tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly as he licks his lips. Maybe you can still leave with the information you need.

You uncross your legs, showing him your covered sex. You stretch a leg out, brushing it against his. Then, in the most seductive voice you can manage, you whisper 'I'm afraid I don't have your usual payment today. Are you willing to accept something a little bit different? I think you'll like it…' you continue stroking his legs as you wait for a reply. He runs a hand up of said leg, toying with he skin just above your sock.

'My, you must really need this information if you're offering yourself up to me like this. The girls came from Asia, China I'd say, judging by the clothes they were wearing. One of them had a piece of paper in her hair. It was part of a shipping receipt. I'd be more than happy to give it to you… if you'll let me give it to you.' His joke is terrible, but at least he's being forthcoming with his information now.

A single stray drop of water falls from you left head and onto your bare thigh. He watches as it trickles down your leg, eyes completely transfixed on it. Now's your chance to confirm your payment.

'Take whatever you want, so long as I get what I came for.' Those words spur him into action, and he lunges forwards, tongue licking up the raindrop before continuing all the way up to your underwear. He pushes your torso back, giving him easier access to you. He starts toying with you through your underwear, which starts to dampen under his touch. When he feels you've accumulated enough wetness, he stands up, putting his hands either side of your waist.

He leans over to kiss your neck. 'Can we do this here, or do you need privacy?' You moan as he starts sucking on your neck, creating a mark you know will be there for days. You try to collect your thoughts enough to answer him, but he's making concentration difficult. He pushes a hand beneath you and starts fiddling with the laces holding your corset in place. He loosen them enough to be able to yank it down, exposing your breasts to the cold air. He brings his mouth over one of your nipples and looks at you, halting his ministrations so you can answer. You push your chest up at him, silently urging him to continue. He doesn't, clearly determined to have his question answered.

You start to get frustrated. 'You can have me right here, just get on with it!' Your answer is good enough for him, and he latches onto your nipple, alternating between suckling and nibbling. You writhe under his touch, the pleasure almost surreal. It's been months since anyone touched you like this, and you silently swear never to allow such a period of abstinence again. Hell, now you know Undertaker will take sex as payment, you won't have to go through a dry spell again. All you have to do is think of something to ask for, then let him do the rest. Simple.

He abandons the nipple he's been working on to play with its twin, leaving it glistening and hard. Seeing your body reacting to him like that is turning you on to no end. It's like your body was created just for him to play with. Your moans increase in volume, and you feel Undertaker removing your underwear, letting them drop to the floor as a hand explorers the newly-exposed flesh of your sex.

A nail lightly scratches against your clit, and you decide you can't take it anymore. You need him to fill you up before you die of anticipation.

You reach down, trying to yank his robe up so you can free his erection. He reluctantly tears himself away from your chest so he can do it for you, rolling his robe up before pulling his underwear down his legs. He smears some of your juices onto his cock before lining himself up. You spread yourself as wide as you can, giving him an invitation he can't refuse. He slides into you with little resistance, letting out a groan as you tighten around him.

It takes a second before your muscles relax enough to let him move, but he makes up for lost time, his thrusts hard and fast. You briefly worry about whether the coffin can cope with all the strain on it, but as he starts rubbing your clit you decide you don't care.

He starts leaving bites all over your chest, to the point where you'll have to wear high-collar dresses for the next fortnight. You don't care though. You can feel your climax approaching fast, so you close your eyes and surrender to the sensation of Undertaker pleasuring you.

He starts attacking your nipples again, and that's enough to make you fall apart under him, crying out in bliss as he works you through your orgasm. He finishes not long after you do, spilling himself inside of you with wild abandon. He litters kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, a surprisingly tender action given his previous ministrations.

When you're both sated, he leans down to rest his head on your chest, rapidly softening cock still inside of you. You start petting his hair, which makes him sigh in contentment. He tilts his head up to look at you.

'Tell me, would you be willing to discus a regular payment plan? All the information you want, paid for in weekly instalments. Interested?' He sounds eager, which makes you giggle. Yeah, the Undertaker sure is eccentric.

You agree to his payment plan.


End file.
